skirting the field,
the ashes flying in her face,
she doesn't break to blink,
holding her eyes
towards the horizon
she left behind;
the longer she strides in time,
the further away she strays...
from that burning,
make believe home;
from the bench-seat of the pickup truck,
where she laid her head on his shoulder
and used his bandana to wipe her tears
after they saw a drive-in movie
and made love among the fireflies.